Category: Uncategorized

Too many images tonight reminding me of forgotten (and thankfully so) desires. There’s the hair that hung down and the hair than didn’t. I guess there’s just less hair altogether now – shaved pubes, balding – but there’s more of us: bodies consistently expanding. Then there’s the creepy thing that she cut the 5th grade version and the 12th grade version out of something, possibly even a larger photo, and montaged them together. All runnerly and jaw-thrusted – everything was ahead. Now Franklin-stove-esquely, waiting for something to happen. Off my meds for three days. Should be in bed. Get back to the gym before the gig. Drop a few. Fit into spandex bodysuit. Live again.

Let me know when you can come see the house and pick up your stuff. It is in the wrong house here and is taking up much-needed space. Just let me know what works for you.

There’s still certain things I can’t do. I reckon you thought I would write after today.
I should be out at Goth/industrial night in downtown with the boys. None of them, minus Craig, do you know.
I still imagine a life in which there is enjambment of friends. Never existed.
I never remembered all of the weird beginning to Sling Blade. Just the good story part and how much you loved it. It’s hard to watch tonight, but I persevere, waiting for the “you will be loved” moment. Why did we do such things to each other? Why all of the emotion when it was a thing that existed but stopped doing so? Love but difference, when the latter won out. That’s how I mark it up.
Why is Sling Blade so weird at the beginning? Wy can’t I listen to Coal Miner’s Daughter? Or Jolie Holland? Where are you tonight? I’ve got mustache too. OM. Original mustache.
One last hurrah that couldn’t, possibly, make any sense.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

In this dream you walk in here while I am entranced and grab me and my wonderful face (so wonderful!). Bob loves us and says we should toss it all: keep renting. It could always be you. It could. Living room when we were in love. Monkey love. O M G! There’s a ghost… godammit a ghost.. for fuck’s sake… S.C. will remain… all the dirties full on. They will watch; of course they will.

Every sound in the universes tonight. All such cacophony; guitars breaking down. I’ve been with the little men, the little man you schooled with – the little violin playing men – and I am the abhorred drunk, or drunken. At least I am alive, and I am. New house. New life. New neighborhood. Leave this place behind. Good memory. Forget the bad. I guess it’s finally time for me to give you Thama’s clock back.

I was with you in 2004. Just realized that tonight. Wish I could share all of this tonight with you as well. Working at CNN. Leaving at a certain point. Crying black woman hugging me. I hope the whole world will be different because of this. I would have loved to hug and screamed and danced with you tonight. I guess I did in some small way.

Family is in town. Realized today you wanted to see. Carrla asked for pictures of you. Know you still look at this some. Know you are out of town. Wish you were here with us.

I feel like I am writing you this from fifty years away.
I watched the debate and wondered what you thought.
I watched the Cubs floundering post-season efforts, and wondered what you thought.
I dug a photo of you out of the closet, full in frame, and wondered what you look like.
I hope, sincerely (and I mean it) that you are happy, and from the handicapped observations that I can make, I think you are.
There’s just an itch at the end of the day, and it’s dying, that I feel only you can scratch (and I know that’s not true).
I just miss seeing you and hope that we will find a way to make that happen one day. You meeting mine. Me meeting yours. Us looking into each other’s eyes and knowing we made the right decision, without regrets.

Know that if I remove you from my friends on Facebook it is just so that I am not tempted to click and see your “wall”. I am glad you are happy for you, but it’s not easy for me to see just yet. If I remove, I will have the complete intention of adding you back when, indeed, we become friends again. I’m going to try just not to look for now.
I think I will be having great moments of joy myself very soon, so maybe that will help out.

This storm thinks it’s going to get the best of me, better think again. I’ll fuck it up. This ain’t no Katrina, harbinger of heartbreak; people standing on roofs while husbands die. I think they wanted husbands to die. Die drunk. New Orleans, best city in the country. Remember a spring break there. Met a girl and she sang songs to me in a courtyard. New Orleans has courtyards.
Take my fucking house, but you’ll have to do it out from under my feet. I deny God. Been twelve years without church and don’t know that I miss it. European friends think I’m an ass for even considering. That’s right, European friends.
I got this house, and I got my dog, and I got my testicles and my dog has his too; fuck Bob Barker. Fucker lives in Burbank or somewhere and spent too much time with artificially colored hair to be trusted.

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